


Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

by edibleflowers



Category: Popslash
Genre: F/M, Genderswap, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-13
Updated: 2012-09-13
Packaged: 2017-11-14 04:31:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/511341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edibleflowers/pseuds/edibleflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joey becomes a girl. Wackiness ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

**Author's Note:**

> this was just an utterly cracked out idea that I had in September of '02 and finished a year later. Don't read it if het sex squicks you.

Joey woke up one morning, looked down at himself, and sighed.

Chris rolled over and put an arm around his waist, mumbling something into his shoulder. Annoyed, Joey shoved him off and pushed himself out of bed. That woke Chris up.

"What?" Chris snapped, rubbing his eyes. When he realized that Joey was sliding a pair of boxers on over hips newly curved -- voluptuous was the first word that came to mind -- he groaned and fell back into bed, an arm covering his eyes. "Not you, too."

"Apparently everyone in this motherfucking group is motherfucking cursed with turning into a motherfucking girl," Joey stated calmly. He was digging in Chris's duffel bag now, still bare from the waist up, and Chris leaned up on one elbow to view the long stretch of smooth, naked back. Actually, Joey reminded him more of a sleek, tall model -- like one of the ones they got for Lane Bryant, as opposed to the typical waifish types -- than a lush Renaissance painting. He blinked. Huh. His dick, it seemed, also saw the attraction.

Joey stood up finally with an inelegant growl, throwing a bra at Chris's head. "You asshole," he said. "You had to know not everyone in this group would be a 32B."

"Excuse me, Mr. I'd-So-Be-A-Double-D," Chris spat back, whining as he tugged latch-hooks out of his hair. "I also thought you said it'd never happen to you."

"Fuck off, Kirkpatrick," Joey said, and, pulling a loose t-shirt over his head, stomped out of the room. Chris flung the bra back in the general direction of his bag and then pulled his pillow over his eyes.

* * *

Lance took him out for girly stuff. Joey vehemently protested the leg-waxing, but when Lance pointed out that it couldn't hurt more than when he had nearly severed his leg in half in the pop-up during rehearsals for PopOdyssey, Joey gave in with bad grace. Afterwards, he squeezed Lance's hand until Lance agreed that yes, the waxing did hurt more.

"At least for my leg I had codeine," Joey pointed out later. Lance had paid for the full day -- facials, massages, the works. Joey's scruffy short hair was useless, so they'd woven in extensions to give him a pageboy cut that really worked to emphasize the new oval of his face, with wispy lighter highlights scattered throughout it. The highlights, blond and red, reminded Lance of past hair-dyeing experiments.

"Waxing doesn't last as long," Lance replied, swallowing his beer. "And once it's done, it's done."

"If I hadn't been dancing on my leg..." Joey shook his head, and Lance glared at the guy behind him who was approaching Joey, a look of lust mixed with reverence in his eyes. Lance guessed he couldn't blame the guy; after all, Joey was pretty fuckin' hot as a girl. If Lance swung that way, he'd be all over Joey. Still, Joey was someone's boyfriend -- or girlfriend, or something -- so Lance gave the guy his best 'Fuck the hell off for all eternity' gaze, and the guy obligingly retreated.

"What was that about?" Joey asked curiously, glancing over his shoulder.

"Nothing," Lance said. "So what does Chris think?"

"Chris is fucking gay," Joey muttered before downing the rest of his beer. "What do you think he thinks?"

 _Oh, shit_ , Lance thought.

* * *

Joey was well and truly smashed when they got back to the hotel. It took Lance and the concierge to haul him out of the cab -- he was singing "I Feel Pretty" in a surprisingly clear alto -- and into the elevator, where Lance tipped the concierge apologetically and said he would take over from there.

"...and witty, and gay!" Joey declared, sprawling back against the rear wall of the elevator cab. Lance stabbed the button for their floor with his thumb. He was already planning the bedroom he would be decorating with what Joey would be paying him back for this. "Don't you think I'm pretty, Lance? You'd fuck me, huh?"

"Not interested," Lance muttered, "even if you weren't my best friend."

"Oh, right. You don't fuck best friends, because it would be weeeeeeeeird." Joey made kissing noises. Lance stared at the elevator doors.

"I don't fuck _girls_ , Joey, remember?"

Joey sighed and slumped to the floor; Lance heard the shift of fabric, heard the soft thump as Joey's ass met the carpeting. He glanced backwards and saw that Joey had his arms folded on his knees, long fake brownish hair obscuring his face, which was pressed to his arms.

Lance hated when Joey made him feel like a heel. The elevator stopped, and Lance went over to Joey, peeling his hands from his arms and tugging him to his feet. They stumbled together for a moment before Joey found his balance.

"Shouldn't have gotten drunk your first day of being a girl," Lance muttered as he helped Joey out of the elevator.

"Now I kn-know my tolerance," Joey said, which sounded far too reasonable. "And, an' if I can find my center of gravity when 'm drunk, then it'll be easy to find when 'm sober, right?"

Lance shook his head and dug his keycard out of a pocket. "You poor slob," he said. "We'll get you and Chris taken care of."

Joey shook his head in urgent denial, but didn't protest when Lance pushed him down to the couch and tugged off his new sneakers. They'd done an impromptu girl-clothes shopping trip, which was Lance's favorite part of the process, before the spa, and Joey had, on the cab ride home, declared eternal love for his new red sneakers.

"Sleep," Lance said softly, and brushed a kiss over Joey's forehead.

"Muh," Joey replied. He was already out when Lance returned from the closet with a blanket; once Lance had it spread over Joey's somnolent form, he brushed back a few stray locks of fake hair and then stumbled into his own bed.

* * *

When Joey woke up the next morning, the first thing he did was stumble into the bathroom to let go of the contents of his stomach. The second was to feel between his legs, and then he crawled into the shower and turned on the water. Only after then did it occur to him to take his clothes off.

There was a loud pounding on the door, so he shouted, "Go away!" Instead the door opened and he wasn't really surprised to hear Chris's voice.

"I brought you some. You know. Tea, and stuff, if you want it. There's coffee, um, too. Yeah."

Joey saw Chris's silhouette moving hesitantly before hopping up on the counter. He sighed and pushed the curtain open. "Could you get my shampoo?" he asked. "I hate this hotel shit."

Chris inhaled sharply, and Joey remembered that he hadn't seen the hair -- or the body, really, especially nude and wet. "And clothes, Lance has. There should be some," he prompted.

"Right." Chris hopped off the counter. "I'll be back."

"Thanks," Joey added, pulling the curtain closed, but not before noting the distinct distortion of fabric at the crotch of Chris's shorts. He allowed himself a smile as he ducked under the water again.

Chris returned before too long, babbling about the slacks and t-shirt and lingerie he was leaving on the counter, and the shampoo that was right there, and he'd just leave Joey alone now. Joey put a wet arm out from behind the curtain and caught Chris's wrist, then pulled the curtain wide.

"Chris," he said softly, "why don't you join me?"

"Uh," Chris said.

"Come on," Joey murmured. His thumb was moving gently over the silky skin of Chris's inner wrist, and then he brought Chris's hand up, placing a damp kiss in his palm. "I want you to."

"Oh, fuck," Chris said, and tore his hand out of Joey's grasp, skidding on the slick tile as he fled the room. Joey sank against the back wall of the shower, swearing.

* * *

"You know he's not doing it to be perverse," JC murmured to Chris on the bus. They were headed to their next destination while publicity worked on the usual stories, and JC had managed to pry Chris out of his bunk after an hour. They were sitting in the back lounge now, JC's arms wrapped around Chris and the TV playing inanely in the background while Justin worked on a song up front. "He just wants to reconnect with you."

"I can't connect with him when he's. He's a girl, he has girl parts, man. I can't do that." Chris squirmed unhappily. He didn't particularly want to be on the bus right now; if anything, he wanted to be on his bike, headed somewhere far away from there.

"Chris, man." JC chuckled, hooking his chin on Chris's shoulder. "You're kind of maybe protesting too much, huh?"

"What do you mean?" Chris grumbled. JC made a vague hand gesture, and Chris looked down, going scarlet. "All right, so. Like, maybe there's some curiosity."

"So? It's not a bad thing. Joey's curious, too. And he's not gonna go without for a month, you know that. You're not gonna do that to him, are you?"

"Go without? For a month?" The color drained from Chris's face, and JC laughed. Chris slumped back against JC, limp, and JC stroked his stomach soothingly. "It's just. God, C. You've always -- you're, like, flexible, you know? It doesn't bug you to move back and forth. But me, I've always known I was gay, only gay. Only into boys. Never had feelings for girls ever. You gotta see where I'm coming from here."

JC nodded, chin digging into Chris's shoulder for a moment. "I, kinda, yeah," he said. "I know it's a big step. But think about it, man. Seriously. You two are good together. I'd hate to see this tear you apart."

Chris gave a soft sigh of agreement.

* * *

He was planning on saying something to Joey that evening; they were getting into town early enough to make plans for going out, and Joey was crowing about not having to worry about being in shape for the next night's show. (Privately, Chris was glad they'd found the lookalikes back when Lance had undergone the startling transformation; he didn't know how they'd managed to stumble across a group of guys that not only looked like 'N Sync but danced like them, too, but no one was looking the gift horse in the mouth.)

When Joey opened the door to his room, however, Chris went speechless. Joey had obviously shopped for more than just basic clothes, because he was wearing a tight black dress, slit up one thigh, with tiny spaghetti straps that only seemed to emphasize the strong curves of his shoulders, the prodigious breasts. Chris had to wrench his gaze upward; when he did, he saw that Joey was smirking at him, mouth dark with perfectly applied lipstick.

"Jesus," he managed, finally.

"I'll take that as a yes," Joey smiled. "Get dressed, Kirkpatrick. We're leaving in an hour."

Chris stood at the door for at least ten minutes after it closed on him before his brain finally kicked into gear again.

\---

He was used to seeing Joey surrounded by a crowd of interested people when they went to a club, but he wasn't used to it being men. Worse, they were handsome men, tall, and Joey was laughing at their jokes, drinking the cocktails they bought for him, dancing with them. Chris sat at the bar and sulked. He wasn't any kind of competition for them. Maybe he stood a chance when Joey was male, but now? Forget it. Also, Joey was enjoying this whole being-a-girl thing way too much, and that disturbed Chris a lot. He fully intended to say so, too. At some point in the near future.

When Joey came giggling up to him, hand twined in the fingers of yet another tall, dark, handsome man, and told him they were going back to the hotel, Chris gave a grumpy nod. "See you there," he said, and didn't see the angry look Joey shot him.

It wasn't until after they'd left that he realized who the tall, dark, handsome man was. By then the cold shock seeping through him was dulled by his fifth beer, and he glared at the bottle as if the Heinekin's logo could give him some answers. Joey'd always wanted Kevin Richardson; this development surely couldn't have come as any kind of surprise.

When Justin and Lance finally came over to him and pried him away from the bar, he was muttering under his breath about no-good boyfriends who deserved what they got. Lance just shook his head, half-sympathetic and half-amused, and hitched Chris's arm around his shoulders. "Come on, you baby," he said. "Let's get going."

"Can I stay with you?" Chris begged weakly. "I don't want to. I don't want to see them."

Wisely, Lance refrained from pointing out that this might not have happened if Chris had accepted the change sooner. He nodded, instead, and, with Justin's help, managed to get Chris out and into the limo.

* * *

Chris was jarred awake, several hours later, by the sound of laughter in the hall outside. He put his head back into the pillow and tried to will himself back to sleep. It didn't work, though, between the pounding headache, the cottonmouth, and the incessant noise from outside. Finally he pushed up off the couch Lance had draped him on, pulled up on the boxers that had somehow drifted south during the night, and stumbled to the door, opening it a crack to see what was going on.

Blinking in the sudden brightness of the hallway light, he stared, eyes dazzled, into whiteness for a few moments. Then it receded, gradually, and he was able to make out two figures down by the elevators: both tall, one voluptuous, one lean and broad of frame. Richardson. He watched long enough for them to exchange a long, slow kiss, with lots of tongue, and then he closed the door again. Sliding down against it, he started banging his head, heedless of the pain rocketing through his forehead.

"Jesus, Chris," he heard Lance mutter, then, in an unhappy sleepy voice, and he blinked up to see Lance, in a muscle shirt and pajama pants, towering above him. He attempted a weak smile. Lance rolled his eyes, grabbed Chris's hands, and hauled him back to the couch. Chris muttered an apology as Lance tucked him back in, and then he fell back to blessed sleep again.

* * *

It took a few mugs of coffee and what seemed like a whole handful of aspirin before Chris felt anything close to human the next morning, and his head was still throbbing when the door opened. He looked up from the table and the paper he wasn't reading, expecting to see Lance --who had stepped out for a conference call -- and nearly choked on his fourth coffee when he saw Joey stepping in, the door quietly closing behind him. Joey was wearing shorts and a tank top, clothes that somehow seemed to accentuate the beauty of his female body without cheapening it.

"Are you -- is this a bad time?"

Chris managed to swallow, wiped his hand over his mouth, and sucked in a breath. "Well, uh, my head's killing me and I just nearly asphyxiated on coffee and did you sleep with Kevin last night?"

A long moment of silence stretched out between them, and then Joey nodded, sitting down on the bed nearest to the table where Chris was seated. "So, that's a no? I mean--"

"Is that a yes?" Chris dropped his eyes, hearing the snap in his voice. "I'm sorry. I'm."

"I'm sorry," Joey said a moment later, an echo of Chris's words. "It's just that. You didn't seem to care, and I've always wanted him, and he was there and--"

"It's OK," Chris whispered. His head was pounding harder than before. "I'm not really mad about it."

"Really?" Joey was quiet for a moment, his breath soft in the stillness of the room. "Well, I'm sorry anyway. I mean. I can't say that I wouldn't do it again, you know, but. I didn't want to hurt you."

Chris stared at the paper until the newsprint blurred before his sore eyes. "I miss you," he said.

He heard Joey move, but it wasn't until the hand rested on his knee that he realized that Joey was kneeling in front of him. Joey's eyes were dark, darker than their normal deep brown, and glistened just a little. Chris swallowed again. "I'm right here," Joey said, his voice low, raw. "I'm right here, Chris. I miss you. I don't want it to be like this. I'm here."

It seemed an eternity before Chris could make his hand move to Joey's, curling their fingers together, and Joey let go of a shaky breath. He tugged Chris's hand gently to his mouth, kissing his knuckles.

"Come on," he murmured. "We'll be OK."

* * *

They spent the rest of the day in a curious kind of tension, one Joey remembered distantly from when they'd first gotten together. The group hung out like normal, standard procedure on a show day, a few interviews and press things, soundcheck, meetings, and then the show and Joey watching critically from backstage, biting his lip and missing being able to be onstage with the rest of them. And through it all, he could practically feel Chris's presence, as he hadn't since he'd first changed, like a line drawn between them, thrumming with their conjoined need.

Chris had said he was still nervous, but he'd said he would try, and Joey knew that was all he really needed. After the show, when Chris leapt into his arms and planted a kiss on his lips, Joey laughed and squeezed him, and he knew it would be all right.

"So I guess we're not going out?" Justin laughed as they got back to the hotel. Chris leaned over and smacked him, and Justin howled in mock agony.

"You go out all you want, man, I'm gettin' lucky tonight."

"You sure as hell are," Justin grinned, and got another smack for that. Joey just smirked, exchanging grins with Lance.

As he had expected, the vibe cooled a little once they were actually back in the hotel room. Chris peeled off his sweaty shirt, then turned to give Joey a glance. "Uh, I'm gonna--" he said, and pointed for the shower.

"Sure," Joey said, and stepped over to touch Chris's shoulder, then leaned in for a soft kiss. "I'll be here." He didn't really mind the sweat, actually, but he knew Chris would feel better and that was what was really important to him.

While the shower ran, Joey changed into a negligee he'd bought earlier that week, back when he'd still been more hopeful than sure that this would actually happen. As he lit a few candles and found a quiet music station on the television, he had to laugh a little; he was probably overplaying the romance, but he wanted a good ambience, wanted Chris to be relaxed and ready.

When the water cut off, he took in a breath, then had to laugh at himself: he was a little nervous, too. It wasn't wrong, though, he didn't think; he'd given the body a spin with Kevin, found out how it worked, but this would mean something, and he couldn't help but feel some worry.

Chris emerged from the shower, rubbing a towel over his head, and blinked; Joey watched him take in the bedroom, saw the slow smile quirk on his face. "Jesus, Fatone, you really did turn into a girl," he observed, and Joey laughed and leaned back on the bed.

"Thought some atmosphere would be nice," he replied. "You, uh, you mind?"

Chris shook his head and tossed the towel back into the bathroom, and as he approached, Joey let his glance slide down Chris's naked torso, over the fabric of his boxers -- _oh, good_ , he couldn't help breathe a little sigh of relief. He gave Chris a little grin and nodded towards the bed. "Come on."

For a half second, Chris didn't move, and panic just barely started to take hold of Joey; but then Chris took the last two steps to the bed and sat down next to Joey, turning a little so that his gaze could take in the long, lush lines of Joey's body. "Hi," he said quietly.

"Hi." Joey reached for Chris's hand, gave him a little tug, and Chris sprawled next to him; after a moment, Joey leaned in, watching to make sure Chris wouldn't move away, and brushed their lips together. He felt Chris's tension, felt it ease, and the kiss warmed, sparked, the old familiar connection stretching between them; he laughed against Chris's mouth and pushed closer, Chris's arms closing around him.

In the end, it was both less and more awkward than Joey had anticipated. They had condoms, so that at least wasn't a worry; when Chris's hand fumbled down Joey's stomach, between his legs, he sucked in a breath and then went pale, muttering, "Shit, man, it's so fuckin' weird," and Joey cracked up for a good ten minutes. They settled down, though, and Joey guided Chris's hand there again, and this time it didn't take long at all before Joey was arching breathlessly, Chris's face astonished, and then Joey sinking back with a contented sigh and tugging Chris down, murmuring, "Now, please, now."

"You can..?" Chris gasped, even as Joey's hand found his cock, hot and hard, and Chris went scrabbling across the sheets for a condom.

"Yeah, yeah, I need, please..."

"Don't have to beg, baby." But Chris was grinning, and it all felt natural, now, familiar and comfortable, despite the physical differences. Joey held himself wide, breath catching as Chris moved into him, and they slid together easily, now, moving in a rhythm that came as easily as breathing. The outer differences didn't matter, Joey thought, as long as they had this, the way they could touch and caress and smile at each other, laugh in the middle of it; the way their eyes met and held, and the final moments when it felt like Joey's brain would melt, and Chris's eyes went wide with pleasure.

And then, afterwards, condom disposed of and sheets tucked around them, Joey rested his head on Chris's shoulder and murmured, "I love you," and heard Chris echo him.

* * *

There was a moment of brief startlement the next morning when Joey awoke, and he sat up, gaze traveling down over himself. He let out a sigh of relief; Chris rolled over, mumbling something, and Joey shook his shoulder absently until Chris let out a cross sigh and opened his eyes. "What?!"

"Oh," he said, a moment later, his eyes focusing on Joey's bare chest -- flat, now, dusted with a faint sprinkling of hair, the same as it ever was. He couldn't keep his gaze from traveling down, and Joey grinned and lifted the sheet.

"All back to normal, dude."

"Good." Chris's voice was gruff as he rolled back over, and Joey smiled to himself as he slid behind Chris, an arm covering his waist possessively. They nestled close together, quiet, for a little while before Chris added, in a softer voice, "Glad you're back."

"Me too," Joey said, wholeheartedly.

"Wanna fuck?" Chris offered. He wasn't entirely in the mood for it, but he thought Joey might be. But Joey just shook his head and buried his face between Chris's shoulderblades, so Chris sighed contentedly and closed his eyes.

"You know," Joey murmured, "I keep wondering if there a point to all this."

"Besides the fact that we've all turned into girls now? I don't know," Chris muttered.

"I think." Joey breathed softly on Chris's nape. "I think it's. I mean, I knew you loved me before, but now. Now I know you love me. You know?"

"You're such a girl," Chris muttered.

Joey thwapped him.


End file.
